


Sherlock's Battle with Boredom: a Scandal

by ohdrey89



Series: Deductive Deviations [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Bored Sherlock, Brothels, Dom Irene, F/M, Fluff and Humor, John is a Saint, Married Mary Morstan/John Watson, Minor Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade, Mischief Managed, Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade Fluff, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft IS the British Government, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Poor Mycroft, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Silver Fox Lestrade, Their Love Is So, Victorian Attitudes, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While his friends are away, Sherlock will play. Consequences be damned.  And who cares if he leaves nothing but gossip and scandal in his wake. He is the East Wind after all... </p><p>Any added frustration wrought upon his elder brother is just an added bonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Battle with Boredom: a Scandal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReadsALot59](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadsALot59/gifts).



> This story comes as sort of an interim. I somehow managed to catch a summer cold, and it muddled my mind for the two weeks. The week before that I was down with allergies caused by going to the city during the summer. And then before that there was a vacation. All in all I took a hiatus I didn't intend and was quite challenged in returning to my duties to you all. But fear not! I have this and two other stories one a gift, the other a continuation of this series - gleefully I announce with the addition of this one shot and the story I'm writing we now have a series - in the works. I'm almost finished the other gift I'm promised to a certain someone and I believe you all will love that as well. Hopefully you'll enjoy this. I believe you will. I found the writing of it to be quite entertaining. Oh who am I kidding? It was a hoot! 
> 
> This goes out to ReadsALot59 not only for the idea, but also for reading! This is my gift to you, I wish I could've had a way to give it to you beforehand to read, but I hope you'll enjoy this along with my other readers. I can't wait to hear what you think and hope this is what you wanted!
> 
> Oh and I should mention that anyone uncomfortable with the describing of women of the night should probably not be too interested in reading this story, there's nothing too seedy about the soft underbelly in this story, but I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. Well, anyone other than Mycroft that is. (evil grin)
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

\---

_221B Baker Street  
Autumn, London 1891_

\---

If you wonder what can happen to a bored Sherlock during the time of Lestrade’s absence, well his absence after – if you recall – Sherlock and John wrapped up the case that disturbed the couple at the beginning of their honeymoon, which left the consulting detective with three and a half weeks of absolutely nothing to do, now you shall know the whole of it. 

Such a lengthy absence was very trying to endure for Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Hudson was at her wits end with the man, with his comings and goings, odd habits, and illicit drug use. John and Mary begged for privacy, John was a newly married man himself, and though Sherlock found himself amused and oddly suspicious of the nurse turned housewife, he found the air of their newly found wedded bliss and domesticity to be incredibly stifling. He stubbornly refused to visit without an expressed invitation, but since he was doing exactly what they told him, they were unwitting that this was actually a full scale rebellion on his part and was miffed in return that his best friend and his wife didn’t show the least bit concern with his unusually polite absence. But once again people see but do not observe. He was sulking and being ignored, which only made the sulking and subsequent boredom to be found in sulking that much more evident. Without John, and without any cases as those moronic peons at Scotland Yard would never allow the infamous Holmes upon a case without the authoritative detective inspector back from him honeymoon to throw his weight around, but also loved to lord over the consulting detective that they didn’t require his assistance when he could tell they did, Sherlock was beside himself with an urge for activity. He could feel his mind as he idled away slowly going atrophy and oozing out of his ears. It was so painful, this boredom. Experiments were gone through all with expected results and not even his usual seven percent solution of cocaine or endless chain smoking of cigarettes could dull the fraying of his untapped intellect. He was starved for a case, anything. At this point, he shuddered as the idea crept into his mind that he could go to Mycroft. But if it was anything interesting, and worth his investigation, Mycroft would always come to him such as was the code of conduct in their tenuous relationship. Mycroft would come with his umbrella between his legs begging for assistance, admitting he needed help, or more like he was too pressed with other things to bother with a minuscule game of hide and seek that required legwork and Sherlock would pretend to be too busy until he itched to solve the problem his brother teased him with and such was the nature of what they deemed their brotherhood. There were no threats at parliament so there was little to amuse Sherlock there, heaven forbid he resort to keeping a weather eye on the common gossip society pages or printed political news out of sheer mind-numbing desperation. No, if he needed to resort to that he could just ask after Mrs. Hudson and let her prattle about the apartment until his patience with her finally wore thin. In short, Sherlock Holmes found himself stuck in his apartments at 221B Baker Street with nothing to do and his so-called friends were all out living their lives, pairing off. It was outrageous! Didn’t they understand that without their assistance he would suffer? And people told him he was the unfeeling one. 

Sherlock was sulking on the settee John insisted be placed in the sitting room while he still occupied the upper bedroom at Baker Street for client consults when he heard Mrs. Hudson tinker up the stairs with the morning tea. He checked the clock upon the mantle where his skull sat next to it. Huh, he hadn’t known it was morning already. The skull told him if he had gone to bed at a decent hour then he wouldn’t have had to endure the pain of all those hours being useless. His friend didn’t understand, the dreaded nothingness of boredom had him awake all night. It was now just gone eleven. Another day of this “dulldrum” to endure until Lestrade returned with his blushing bride. He gave in and smiled a very small smile as Molly usually did much to soften his mien, he regretted not giving into the base need for affection his friends seemed to be plagued with but regretted he hadn’t opened himself up to Molly when he had the chance. Perhaps that was the problem, Irene was too untamable, more like a deadly flower than an actual woman, but sweet Molly while she would understand him and challenge his mind had been too willing and available in her admiration of him, until she wasn’t and Lestrade gained her attention. Now she was with a man deserving of her affections, and unlikely to hurt her in the long term as Sherlock knew he would with his unusual ways, and lack of normal manners. But Molly had made such a beautiful bride the day of the wedding, Sherlock would have been jealous had he not seen the complete devotion and adoration in Greg’s eyes. The man had been besotted and Sherlock knew Molly would always be cherished and protected by the man. He couldn’t have allowed her to be with anyone less. Yes next to the perfection that was Sherlock Holmes, the more human and humble Detective Inspector was the next best thing. Sherlock’s smile broadened at the memories of his friends until Mrs. Hudson came into the room. She gave him a surprised sort of cheery expression and wasn’t miffed in the slightest when he huffed back into couch with his back rudely faced away from her. 

“Oh Sherlock I didn’t know you’d be awake! Just bringing you your morning tea. Oh and the post came early today.” Mrs. Hudson puttered about setting the tea out, and brought his favorite chocolate biscuits as well. She knew the man hardly ate during these languishing periods, but John would be terribly upset if she let him go too long without eating. 

Sherlock eyed the biscuits with interest before noticing he got the landlady’s attention and returned back to his sulking state. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know that he wasn’t suffering as cruelly during this limbo as he felt. They had all done him an injury! “Yes, Hudders, just leave the tea there, you could perhaps clean away yesterday’s boring newspapers and bring fresh ones from the shop. I need something to keep me busy.” Sherlock groaned slugging up from the couch as though it pained him to face another day, but it did when the days were like this with nothing to amuse, no adventure, no occupation. It was absolutely maddening. 

“Only this once dear, not your housekeeper.” Mrs. Hudson dimpled at the affectionate iteration she always chastised when the boys asked her to do something that was not strictly landlady duty. But then again, she was more of an aunt or mother to Sherlock anyway. 

“Yes as you clearly have a need to remind me.” Sherlock grumbled snapping open the one gazette that did come with the mail, and saw an interesting advert that caught his eye. A new private and very select gentleman’s club was advertising themselves by claiming to be a source of gossip for the society pages and claiming that certain members of high society were seen coming in and out of the place. Interesting, though it was the one name upon the current list of gentlemen that caught his eye. This would need investigating. A nap and a bath were in order, and this evening instead of sulking, a bit of intrigue would finally brighten what started as an excessively dull day. He devoured the biscuits and the rest of his tea with enthusiasm before retiring to his bedroom. Sherlock retired to his bedroom to languish and puzzle over what that evening would have in store.

\---

The beginning of the evening found Sherlock in the smoking room at the Royale, where he tolerated multiple slaps on his back and several glasses of brandy that he pretended to drink until he had the information he needed from the other men of society. It really hadn’t been that difficult, the name Holmes was well known but the brothers Holmes were a suspicious pair, and while gentlemen being what they are would keep their gossip to a minimum at the inquiry about something so personal, they all clamored at the chance to inform the younger Holmes were he might take his ease, as they smirked using the moronic double entendre. Sherlock suffered under their jokes until he could make his excuses and now here he stood under the posh yet inconspicuous edifice that told nothing of the depravities happening within it. He procured the invitation from one of its more regular members before he left the Royale. He knew he could have gone to his club for the same thing, however, one would always like to be able to go to his club again without feeling the need to hide his face. It didn’t matter at the Royale where he was unlikely to bump into those same men again since he didn’t go to their club or dine with them regularly. No his plan was working out seamlessly as he knew it would. Upon entering the brothel he found himself quickly divested of his coat and outer garments and seated in a great sitting room without preamble. The room was dark enough to allow for privacy, as the women were entertaining several men that had yet to offer a price, but welcoming enough that a man would not run scared if his nerves got the better of him. No, an effortlessly procured glass of wine would soothe his nerves and make him pliable enough to assess a price and then he would be satisfied so thoroughly he would return and never be nervous when going to this brothel again. Sherlock observed this all with rapt interest, noting the keenness of these lionesses on the prowl. They were indeed the deadliest of hunters and Sherlock was walking into their den knowingly making himself their bait.

There were no introductions made, but none needed. He had women at his elbows, shoulders, knees. Really the women were seemingly everywhere and nowhere. Schrödinger’s mistresses. He could applaud their talents, and the coming here not only made for a delightful evening, should the man in question show up, but also made for interesting research. Women of this certain talent did much to beguile him before, see Irene Adler in his mind palace files for that evidence. But from what he could observe from these lesser courtesans that were easier to read, they could teach the greatest spies in the art of being seen and unseen. Sherlock Holmes was not hesitant to admit he was taking notes. The only thing to give the women away was the heady scent of their perfumes, but in a room full of incense smoke and potpourri only the keenest of noses, and knowledgeable men could pick up on the differences. Such as he was. The effect of the wine, women, and smells slowly began to work even on his advanced mind and he was just about to enquire as to their prices when a familiar voice cut through their wooing of this handsome man. Few men that stumbled into their brothel were as stunning and wealthy as this man and all of the whores were hungry for such a conquest. 

“Sherlock Holmes, in my brothel, what on earth are you doing here?” Irene Adler cracked the whip in her hand and scattered the other lionesses as she was queen of this pride. She smiled to the consulting detective as he rose and straightened himself, caught completely unaware that he had stumbled into Irene’s domain. 

“Miss. Adler, I did not know you were in London, nor did I have any idea that this establishment was your den of iniquity. I thought you preferred to work alone.” Sherlock smirked proffering his cheek when she kissed it. 

“Well Mr. Holmes, now you know I am Madam Adler here. And yes I do work alone, unless that’s not what the customer wants but I keep this house to keep these other girls off the streets. They too know what men like but often don’t really know how to utilize that to their favor to keep themselves in a comfortable way. I train them up so that they can go out and move about society without causing too much mischief.” Irene smiled. 

“Unless they like misbehaving.” Sherlock concluded using Irene’s own words in response. 

“Exactly.” Irene smiled fondly to the other girls. She had bedded most of them or bedded men alongside them, even abused some of them for the pleasure of other men, and that was something she couldn’t go through without feeling some form of affection for these sisters in sin. “Now as much as I would enjoy reminiscing over old times with you, Sherlock, you’re too lovely a morsel for the girls to leave alone and thus keeping them away from the less appetizing customers.” Irene dimpled towards the consulting detective, she could see the tempting appeal. He was not only the great Sherlock Holmes, but he was also much more than the usual clientele these girls saw come through their doors. It was no wonder they were more than a little distracted. However it was bad for business for the girls to favor a man just because they were good-looking. A courtesan didn’t have such a luxury. She pulled Sherlock out of the room and showed him into her study, shooing the girls from the door with an admonishment to return to work. The girls returned to work and courting the other men that were lacking in attention. 

“Now that I know this is your place, maybe you can help me Irene.” Sherlock smiled guardedly to the dominatrix. 

“You’re up to something, aren’t you? What is it?” Sherlock told Irene of his plan and she heartily agreed to it. Anything to help save Sherlock from his boredom. 

\---

For the next two weeks, taking up almost half of the time of the Lestrades’ honeymoon, Sherlock frequented the brother almost on a daily basis. He allowed several girls to paw at him on a regular basis and reclined about the rooms as if he were one of the courtesans himself. It made for divine observation material, as he watched the men coming and going from the establishment, to see the range of clientele Irene had, from men of influence to every day merchants. No man was too big or too small to be serviced by Irene and her girls. In this all men were equal, well excepting Sherlock. The thirsty harlots soon grew tired of his aloofness, preferring to be pleasured instead of ignored completely, even though the pay for their time was good. If they left before his time was over for the night, he didn’t care, they still got paid to come and go as they pleased, it was rather funny the way the man in the silly hat simply wanted to sit and observe. They were all used to unusual requests but that was one the girls would never forget. He was usually still as a statue as he sat in the rooms that weren’t being occupied by customers, and the girls followed him trying to tempt him into more tantalizing activities with their best routines.

Nothing could soften his marbled skin until another man almost as strange as him and twice as influential stepped over the Adler House threshold. This one was just as stony as the detective but he brought along with him very well paying clients from foreign nations looking to try the local cuisine. Upon seeing the other man, the consulting detective ignited into passion, seeking the affections of all the girls in his midst, and they covered him with raptures that would make Caligula envious. When their moaning began to crest, as all of the women finally sated their long thirsting appetites for the strange Sherlock Holmes, his eyes lit upon the target of his frequenting Irene’s brothel. Mycroft Holmes balked catching his younger brother surrounded by London’s finest of seedy underbelly. He strode over to the room and stood before his little brother pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sherlock merely smirked in victory. 

“What are you doing here, Sherlock?” Mycroft groused. His anger was offsetting the delightful orgy that was taking place inside Sherlock’s consulting harem. The girls tried to paw at the elder Holmes but with a stern glare knew they would get nowhere in propositioning him.

“Having fun. What does it look like I’m doing, brother mine?” Sherlock toyed with Mycroft’s angry embarrassment. Noting the heat at Mycroft’s usually pale ear tips that finding his brother in such a disparaging scene was doing more than just making him angry. 

“And I suppose that you did this just to embarrass me in front of the ambassador of Spain.” Mycroft grumbled in defeat. He watched Sherlock stand up despite the reaching hands trying to encourage him to stay on the bed, and slink over to stand before his brother. There were bite marks all over his neck and lipstick stains all over his shirt and trousers. Somehow he had prevented the girls from getting far enough to remove his belt and pants entirely. 

“No. I believe that’s just an added bonus, I might inquire though as to why I found your name in the gossip columns frequenting this address. Mummy wouldn’t be pleased.” Sherlock threw out the cheap shot with a victorious smirk. Mycroft was always the one to admonish Sherlock for upsetting Mummy Holmes. 

“If I do frequent such establishments, it is strictly for work and I never indulge in such base proclivities myself. At least not here, but really how would you know?” Mycroft smirked at his talented repose, jabbing at Sherlock’s lack of experience with baser human needs. “Now as much as I would love to entertain your childish need for sibling squabbles, I only came to see the ambassador of Spain to the brothel and now that he is with Miss. Adler, and will be safe, you and I are leaving, and I would ask you not to come here looking for me again. The society pages of every newspaper in London would have a field day and that would only create more headaches for me.” Mycroft pulled Sherlock into the hallway and saw him into his suit jacket and outer garments before Sherlock could give a word of protest. However once he was outside and he remembered himself, Sherlock did object, rather loudly at being forcibly escorted from the house before he could get his money’s worth. He did so in front of several witnesses that were just the right levels of society to gossip and spread the rumors that would become print in the newspapers. He smirked once inside the carriage, to his brother’s agitated annoyance, once again the picture of absolute calm. “You did that on purpose,” Mycroft sneered, banging on the room of his carriage to take the younger Holmes back home to Baker Street. Sherlock chuckled to himself as he observed the passing London night. Everything went just as he planned. When bored, when in doubt, just find a way of annoying Mycroft. He practically killed off the entire time he would have to wait for Lestrade to return to London, and not only had Mycroft been sufficiently tortured with annoyance but he had done a fair good bit of unintended research as he observed the activities of the courtesans at their occupation. Yes, he had been delightfully diverted. All around, a very successful case, and would provide a salacious story to entertain John once he read the news and would come barreling up to 221B to find out what happened. Yes. Everything went exactly as he planned. He only hoped the scolding’s he would receive from Mummy wouldn’t be too laborious to endure. 

\---

The last few days of their honeymoon found the newly married Detective Inspector and Mrs. Lestrade lounging in their suite over breakfast. Molly was curled up on the settee, newspaper folded up in one hand, tea, and breakfast tray at her elbow before a roaring fire that kept them and the breakfast warm, while Greg’s head was rubbing against her robe where it rest in her sumptuous lap. He was making every effort to displace the offending satin from its place so that he might glimpse her delectably creamy thighs and the tantalizing treat that lay beyond them. The only thing to distract him was his wife feeding him the odd bit of toast or fruit, when his movements became too insistent. He would then nibble upon her hand and gallantly lick any offending remains of food from her fingers. Molly would then giggle and swat away his tickling touch, causing Greg to let out his own grumble of a chuckle. Molly would then go back to reading and Greg would go back to relaxing. Until her scent would distract him and then they would repeat the process again. It was quite an indulgent way to spend the lazy morning.

Greg felt himself falling asleep with his head cradled in the warmth of his wife’s lap when she gasped sitting up too quickly, displacing him from his comfortable wifely pillow.

“Oi! What is it, Molls?” Greg questioned, grumpy at being disturbed. Molly’s gasp quickly turned into fits of giggles, she proffered the paper she hand been reading pointing to a paragraph in the London gossip column. Greg quickly scanned it before bursting out in a deep belly laugh. Molly followed her husband and they shared in the laughter to be found at the antics they read of concerning the brothel frequenting of brothers Mr. M and S Holmes. What caused the happy couple to laugh the most was the writer of the column supposing that the brothers shared a similar taste, or wanted to spend time together and went to the brothel as a way to bond. Reading that alone was enough to bring tears to Molly’s eyes as she fought to regain control of herself. 

“What trouble could Sherlock have possible gotten into while we were away? How did they end up in that situation? I would have given a hundred guineas to be a fly on the wall in that brothel when those two showed up.” Molly laughed looking to her husband as she wiped away the tears from her eyes. The fondness of the look her husband gave her in that moment, a completely familiar and unguarded moment, that were happening with more regularity as the couple became familiar with one another, told Molly that Greg wasn’t thinking about the article so much anymore but another matter entirely. He tossed the paper behind the couch and scooped up his new wife into his arms. 

“Whatever it is we’ll find out when we get back to London, for now I think there could be far better ways of occupying our time!” Greg announced carrying Mrs. Lestrade to the bedroom of their honeymoon suite where she belonged. And together the two of them performed acts that would give the girls of the Adler House a run for their money. 

\---

That same morning that Greg and Molly laughed and then completely ignored the infamous article that had all of London talking, found Dr. and Mrs. Watson inside 221B Baker Street admonishing the one and only consulting child over breakfast. Sherlock had been stomping around the house trying to find the cigarettes John had judiciously hid before they had woken the man up. He was in one of his full strops and John shared many a glance with Mary as if to say ‘see what I had to put up with for all these years’ and ‘yes, he’s always like this.’ 

“What difference does it make what my reputation is?” Sherlock argued, “You know I never care for such prattling nonsense. I was bored. Mycroft was annoying me. So I annoyed him back. My social reputation is meaningless.” 

“It won’t be if this sort of scandalous behavior keeps your better paying clients from seeking your advice.” John warned. 

“So? Who cares if the clients pay as long as they’re interesting?” Sherlock questioned as he flung items ranging from martial arts equipment to case papers about from a chest in the sitting room. The place had been a tidy mess before, now it was utter chaos. But John refused to budge. He wasn’t getting those cigarettes back and they were going to get him to admit that creating such scandals would hurt him. 

“Sherlock the last thing you need is gossip so serious that even Scotland Yard refuses your help, like they almost did after the whole Moriarty debacle.” Mary wisely mentioned. At this reminder of what he almost lost to bring down Moriarty’s web, Sherlock’s face closed off as he fought the oncoming tendrils of cold dread that accompanied the mention of the maniac’s name still. He shook his head to clear away the feeling and resumed the looking for his lost precious cigarettes. 

“You might have a point.” Sherlock mumbled in concession as he stopped looking to take a seat in his chair. John sat opposite him in his usual chair with a triumphant smile. He was glad that his best friend was finally seeing things from their perspective. “I still don’t see why I should care, the opinions of polite society are never my concern.” Sherlock waved away the idea that this little scandal he had created for fun would do anything to harm him. 

“No you wouldn’t but that’s why you have us!” Mary smiled warmly to her husband’s best friend. He was really more like a brother to John than a friend, and they looked to him as a brother. In any case, he was great practice for dealing with their future children. Mary put a hand protectively over her stomach. Sherlock noted the action, everything within him coming to a halt. When John looked to see what caught Sherlock’s attention he smiled, and stood to walk over to his wife. 

“Scolding you for being foolish, as per usual, wasn’t the only reason Mary and I came over to Baker Street today. We wanted to ask you something.” He looked to Sherlock and down to Mary and shared a fond look with wife. “We wanted to know if Uncle Sherlock would want to be a godfather as well.” John smiled serenely to his wife and looked to his best friend for a reply. The look they were getting was the same when he asked Sherlock to be his best man as their wedding. Once again, he had broken his best friend with affection. 

“John?” Mary asked ready to fuss over the consulting the detective, never seeing him shut down like that before. “Is he alright?” John patted his wife’s shoulder and proceeded to sit back down in his chair and picked up a paper. 

“He’ll be fine, he just needs a minute to process that people actually love him and want him in their lives. It’s always a bit of a shock when he can’t deduce things like that.” John smiled smugly to his best friend that had yet to come out of his stupor. This time however it would be almost all afternoon before Sherlock would come back to reality and began to ask all kinds of questions about the baby and Mary’s pregnancy with the same acuity he used when being the best man. If Mary wasn’t careful, Sherlock would be in delivery room with the midwife, doctor, and nurses pacing the room. They were all looking forward to the new baby Watson, but somehow they knew that Sherlock was looking forward to it more than most.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked it! I know its not very long but it was just a cute way to bridge the gap between Second Chances and the next story I hope to post sometimes soon. Stay tuned! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


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